first
part of the drive, though a mere look in my direction seemed to afford
her amusement. And at last, half way up the Rise, where the road takes
to an embankment, I got a decided jar.

"Mr. Allen," she cried to the Celebrity, "you must stop here. Do you
remember how long we tarried over this bit on Friday?"

He tightened the lines and threw a meaning glance backward.

I was tempted to say:

"You and Mr. Allen should know these roads rather well, Miss Thorn."

"Every inch of them," she replied.

We must have gone a mile farther when she turned upon me.

"It is your duty to be entertaining, Mr. Crocker. What in the world are
you thinking of, with your brow all puckered up, forbidding as an owl?"

"I was thinking how some people change," I answered, with a readiness
which surprised me.

"Strange," she said, "I had the same thing in mind. I hear decidedly
queer tales of you; canoeing every day that business does not prevent,
and whole evenings spent at the dark end of a veranda."

"What rubbish!" I exclaimed, not knowing whether to be angered or
amused.

"Come, sir," she said, with mock sternness, "answer the charge. Guilty
or not guilty?"

"First let me make a counter-charge," said I; "you have given me the
right. Not long ago a certain young lady came to Mohair and found there
a young author of note with whom she had had some previous acquaintance.
She did not hesitate to intimate her views on the character of this
Celebrity, and her views were not favorable."

I paused. There was some satisfaction in seeing Miss Thorn biting her
lip.

"Well?"

"Not at all favorable, mind you," I went on. "And the young lady's
general appearance was such as to lead one to suppose her the sincerest
of persons. Now I am at a loss to account for a discrepancy between her
words and her actions."

While I talked Miss Thorn's face had been gradually turning from mine
until now I saw only the dainty knot at the back of her head. Her
shoulders were quivering with laughter. But presently her face came back
all gravity, save a suspicious gleam of mirth in the eyes.

"It does seem inconsistent, Mr. Crocker; I grant you that. No doubt it
is so. But let me ask you something: did you ever yet know a woman who
was not inconsistent?"

I did not realize I had been side-tracked until I came to think over
this conversation afterwards.

"I am not sure," I replied. "Perhaps I merely hoped that one such
existed."

She dropped her